


Gold Petals

by Johniarty



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU, Breastplay, Developing Relationship, F/M, First Meetings, Florist Belle, Jefferson/Rumplestiltskin (Past), Masturbation, NSFW, Rumbelle - Freeform, Sex, Sexual Content, Storybrooke, Tattoo Artist Rumplestiltskin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-03-21 04:37:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3677739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johniarty/pseuds/Johniarty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robert Gold's lived in Storybrooke for thirty years. He's seen many of Main Street's shops open and close their doors - very few remain for long, it seems. The shop in front of his tattoo parlor, in particular, tends to be vacant more often than it is occupied. He doesn't think twice when a flower shop takes up residences; until, of course, he meets the daughter of the proprietor. Belle is a sweet girl who loves to read, with a natural curiosity about her. Her very restrictive father tends to prefer Belle be seen and not heard. When she works up the nerve to enter Robert's parlor, she shows him that even the smallest rose can bloom in a safe environment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> OH GOD I HAVE SO MANY THINGS I NEED TO FINISH BUT I NEED A RUMBELLE TATTOO/FLORIST AU OKAY.
> 
> I NEED THIS.
> 
> This WILL get adult, explicitly so, and I'll change the rating as I get more content out. Commissions are my priority right now, but this? This is my new pet project.
> 
> Mature for now, and I'll add the tags as they become relevant.

Gold’s Ink, the sign read, drawn in skilled calligraphy. The small shop’s windows were decorated with fairy tale images, of queens and princes and powerful wizards covered in tattoos. Robert Gold found them endearing. Needle in hand, he listened as a short, bearded man named Leeroy described the image he sought. A pickaxe striking a diamond in half. His silver-streaked hair was pulled back in a half-bun to keep it out of his eyes as he bent over Leeroy’s arm, brown eyes entirely focused on his art.

“Do you think it’s strange, brother?”

“Oh, not at all. I’ve been at this a long time, Leeroy, and this is a rather tame tattoo. A woman once asked me to brand a dragon over her back. Black and purple. It took a year to complete. This? Perhaps another hour at the most.”

Robert’s one gold tooth glittered in the bright light overhead as he lifted the needle and his eyes from Leeroy’s arm. In a way, he found it cute; a symbol of his love for his career, a symbol of the strength he fancied himself possessing… it was perfect for Leeroy.

“What do you know about the shop across the street?”

For years the realty sat empty, the advertisement in the window growing dust. All the other stores on that little stretch of Main Street flourished, but selling the empty building seemed nigh on impossible. However, today the ‘for sale’ sign was taken down.

“Nothing yet,” Robert admitted, turning back to draw the lines of the diamond.

“Somebody’s putting a sign in the window, Gold. Maybe you’re getting new neighbors.”

“Leeroy, if you want this to actually look correct, I can’t keep looking away.”

Sighing, Leeroy fell quiet, watching the round man place a new sign in the storefront. He glanced their way with a disapproving frown, but Robert didn’t notice. Lost in his craft, dedicated to giving Leeroy the art he paid for, he was completely oblivious to the world around them. As his needle glided over Leeroy’s skin the ink flowed, the haft of the axe taking form beneath Robert’s skilled fingers. He switched the ink colors with fluid ease each time, practiced movements Robert didn’t even need to think about. Within an hour the tattoo was done, beautifully shaded against Leeroy’s skin.

“What do you think?”

“It’s perfect! Incredible work as always, Gold.”

“Remember to keep it dry for a day or so, and use lotion to keep it from cracking.”

Grinning, Leeroy nodded and passed Robert his payment. As soon as he left the shop, Robert followed after to close down the shop for the night. He raised his eyes to the street as he flipped the sign to closed, taking a long look at the now-purchased shop. _Coming Soon: Game of Thorns_ read the new sign in the window. He chuckled to himself and slipped out of his parlor, locking the door behind him. Witty, they were, whoever owned the shop. Perhaps the little round man Leeroy had seen. Robert leaned on his cane as he limped back to his house, the shop quickly forgotten.

* * *

“If it’s too heavy, I can carry it.”

“I’ve got it. I don’t know why you don’t believe me, father.”

Half-hidden behind a large box labeled ‘lamps’, Belle French navigated her way from from the moving truck to the back of the new store. Half the building would be a nursery for their flowers; the other would be the physical shop itself. Floral arrangements, seeds, balloons and paper and personalized stationery… Her father would bring the refrigerators in later, where they’d keep the arrangements people ordered cool and safe. It could work, she thought as she set the box of sunlamps down on the floor. When Belle straightened up, she wiped the dust on her hands off on the hem of her blue summer dress. It seemed as if no one had been in the shop for years, by the layer of grime covering the place. She raised her eyes to the window just in time to see a figure limping down the sidewalk - silvering hair down to his shoulders, dark jeans and a black button-down shirt, small round sunglasses…

Belle stepped closer to the window to watch as he unlocked the shop across the street, the tattoo parlor. To her, the strange man didn’t seem to be the sort to work at a business like that. Older than her father, a regal air followed him as he pulled open the red curtains and let light into his parlor. With practiced movements he pulled his hair up into half-bun and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. Golden ink wrapped around his forearms, shining even from Belle’s distance from him. What did he have permanently etched onto his skin?

Mr. Gold - judging from the name of the shop, it wasn’t hard to guess his name - sat down to sterilize his equipment, and Belle watched as he rinsed empty ink bottles and wiped the leather seats down. From what she could see the whole place had a very vintage feel about it. Everything matched his black and gold theme, with deep crimson splashes now and again - on his chairs, his drapes, the tile of the floor…

“Belle? Are you coming back? Smee and I’ve got the counter, but you need to carry the -”

“The planters, I know. I’ll be right there.” Belle gave one last curious glance out the window, biting her lip. Mr. Gold glanced up as as she did, and for a brief moment their eyes met. Belle flashed him a shy little smile and gave a quick wave before she hurried out to her father’s truck.

* * *

Glancing up from his register, Robert found a beautiful young woman smiling at him. Dazzling blue eyes, dark hair, dimpled cheeks… Trouble, he thought, though he couldn’t resist acknowledging her. He smiled back, a slight grin that touched one corner of his mouth and gave the new girl a mock bow. Perhaps it’d be worth it to pay the flower shop a little visit, once they had everything situated…

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First meetings are always a little awkward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, the next three weeks are rough for me because of finals. I promise, they'll have more substantial interactions soon!

“Lend a hand then. I’m sure they’d appreciate it. New town, no friends, a business to run… That can be a lot to carry on your plate, brother.” Leeroy leaned against the counter, flipping through a book of Robert’s designs as he wiped down the glass. He had a point, Robert supposed. If he offered the new family his assistance, they could settle faster. More time to adjust to their new home was a gift precious few would offer.

“I suppose I don’t see the harm. Out, Leeroy, I’m locking up early.” Waving his rag, Robert ushered his short friend out of the shop. Though he grumbled, Leeroy let himself out and disappeared around the corner. Once he felt sure the shop was locked and safe Robert crossed the street to the florist’s. The gold tip of his cane clicked against the pavement with every other step. Perhaps if he was lucky the girl would be in…

* * *

 

The bells dangling from the door jingled, pulling Belle from the pages of her book. Currently, she was engaged in reading about a wizard living in Chicago and trying to stay on his Council’s good side - she found it entertaining and endearing, even if he talked about turning down se as if he deserved a medal. She slipped her bookmark between the crisp pages and glanced up, breath catching in her throat.

Mr. Gold, dressed far more finely than she remembered. In fitted black suit trousers and a dark red dress shirt, he looked for all the world like a man about to attend a business conference - if not for his mane of hair, wild and splayed against his shoulders. The jacket of his ensemble hung over the arm that gripped his cane.

“Um, hello,” Belle said, voice wavering a little. “We’re not open yet, I’m sorry, but if you come back in a few days-”

Handsome. God, she couldn’t help but notice how absolutely gorgeous he was. With the light behind him, his silver-streaked hair glowed like a halo. Though he leaned heavily on his cane, Belle could see the strength in his frame. How much older could he possibly be? Ten years? Twenty?

“I’m not here to buy anything, dearie,” Mr. Gold chuckled, his accent thick in the quiet room. “I own the parlor across the street. Robert Gold.” He offered Belle his free hand, a battered gold ring on his right ring finger.

Belle shook his hand, trying not to dwell on the callouses of his fingers or the way his hand slid against her soft palms. The hands of an artist, delicate and strong…

“I - um, I’m Belle. Belle French.”

“I simply came by to welcome you to Storybrooke, Ms. French. I know it’s not easy taking up residence in a new town, but should you or your family need anything I’m a short walk away.”

As he spoke robert rolled up his sleeves, revealing more of the ink she only barely glimpsed a few days prior. Thread - strands of golden thread wrapping down his forearm in intricate patterns. Belle bit her lip, wondering how high they wound along his skin.

“I’m a bit slower than some, perhaps, but I’m willing to help you settle.”

“Sure! Yes, I’d - um, I don’t want to trouble you, or anything…”

Her eyes fell to his cane, hips favouring his leg even though he seemed practiced at hiding his discomfort. She didn’t want to ask him to help carry in the last of the large planters; not if it could cause him pain. Were there any tasks she could give him to get him to stay a little longer? Belle wanted to get to know him - how long he’d been an artist, how long he’d lived in Storybrooke, if he had any family…

“Honestly I can’t think of anything we need right now, Mr. Gold, but I’ll keep your offer in mind!” Belle’s bright blue eyes glimmered and she flashed him a smile. Her dimpled cheeks carried the faintest hint of flush.

Robert gave her a little nod and a crooked grin in turn. “Have a lovely evening then, Ms. French. I won’t keep you.” As he turned to exit, Belle summoned all her courage.

“Nice to meet you!” she called, standing on her toes in her tall-heeled shoes. Whether he heard or not Belle couldn’t say, but she smiled after him all the same, thinking of the way Robert’s skin felt against her own.

“Belle? Who was that?”

Moe carried one end of the planter, his friend Smee bringing up the rear as they maneuvered it through the back door of the shop. He cast his gaze toward the glass, watching Robert limp down the road toward his home.

“A neighbor,” she answered, sitting back down in the chair and opening her book once more. “Maybe a friend, if we ever need one.”

* * *

In her yellow dress, Belle looked like the sun itself; the sky blue of her eyes, her radiant smile, her shining hair… Robert couldn’t help but notice just how stunning she was. Though he couldn’t place her accent he knew she wasn’t American - how far had her family traveled, only to set up shop in Storybrooke? Perhaps one day he’d get the chance to speak with her more properly.

Back in his home, safe behind a locked door, he stripped his suit and prepared it for drycleaning. Almost all of his slender, short frame was covered in ink. The gold threads that bound his arms connected to a spinning wheel on his back, a lovely antique-looking thing made of polished wood. A dagger was drawn through the spokes, oddly serpentine by design. One horn graced each of his hips, black and curling with the shape of his bone. On his stomach sat a strange-looking heart, as if made of glass, caught and tangled in the tips of several beanstalks. Lettering bridged the space between his shoulderblades; B A E L F I R E, carefully calligraphied.

Down one calf, wrapped and repeating, was the chemical structure of gold. The golden threads first glimpsed by Belle were thicker near the tops of his arms, thinning out near his forearms and wrists. Somehow he kept his chest bare of art;  whether personal preference or deterred by age even Robert didn’t know. There was time for more, he supposed, should he think of something he couldn’t live without.

He rested his cane beside the door and limped toward the bathroom to shower. Tomorrow he had a meeting with Regina scheduled; the mayor wanted a new tattoo, something easily hidden to commemorate her love for her son. Perhaps an image of the story book he carried with him, with his name written across the pages by a magic quill...


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Robert's working on Regina's tattoo, Belle works up the nerve to ask a very important question,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the chapters in this story are short and dialog heavy, but I'm afraid if I draw it out I'll never get it finished. I really, REALLY want to tell this cute (and smutty) story from start to finish.

“Mayor Mills, if you don’t sit still you’re going to wind up with a mess on your back that even I can’t fix.”

Regina turned her head, scoffing as she shifted against the table. Ever since she arrived, Gold had been barking orders at her. She could put him out of practice, she supposed; revoke his license, seize control of the shop…

“Well, it itches. It’s never itched before, Gold.”

“You’ve never had your back inked before, Regina. Be grateful it isn’t agonizing. A bit of discomfort is better in the long run, isn’t it?”

Robert spread one gloved hand over the small of her back, forcing her to still so he could finish the outline of the book. The photograph propped on his tray for reference was heavily filtered, but it was clear enough for him to design her art. The barest traces of brown would fill in the small areas marking the cover, white for the pages, black for the quill. In the design the book lay open, pages fluttering in a strong imaginary breeze. Perfect for her son, and perfect for her.

“... Gold, there’s a flower bud in your shop.”

Lost in the careful outlining of Regina’s tattoo, he hadn’t heard the bells chiming from the front door. When he raised his head, peeking through the curtain that surrounded Regina’s table, he found himself staring at Belle French. Dressed in a white sweater and pleated cream skirt, she looked entirely too innocent to be standing in a tattoo parlor.

“Now what could you want?” Robert muttered under his breath. As strong as his curiosity was, he busied himself with finishing the outline of Regina’s tattoo.

“Be with you in a moment, dearie,” he called.

Regina, however, had no intentions of keeping her eyes to herself. She watched Belle turn on her dangerously high heels, taking in every sight she could. The books of art on the counter caught her eye, and Regina’s dark red lips twitched in a wicked grin. If she picked the wrong book…

Belle bent over the counter, flipping through the leather-bound binders of Robert’s art with a smile. One Regina knew to be commissioned tattoos. Another was original body art designs, including the ink that covered Robert’s nearly golden skin. Yet another was simply illustrations, some done for Robert’s son, some done just for fun. It was the fourth that interested Regina, however - if Belle opened that one, well, the poor dear was in for a shock.

After a few moments of peace, both Robert and Regina heard a surprised gasp.

“Regina, stay here. Don’t touch your back. I’ll only be a moment.” Robert turned off the needle and set it back on the tray. The gloves came off, resting beside it. Deeming himself presentable, Robert limped out of the curtain and crossed to the counter.

* * *

Running the flower shop was fine, Belle supposed, but it did get boring. Since her father was still setting up, business was slow. After three hours the sweet fragrance of the flowers began to grow cloying; she needed a break. Belle drew up a small sign signaling the shop was closed for lunch and hung it on the inside of the door. Her father wouldn’t mind - well, he would, but she needed to eat, didn’t she?

She formed a plan as her heels clicked against the sidewalk. Ask Mr. Gold to lunch. More than anything Belle longed to get to know him - he seemed so… well, intimidating, but gentle. Sometimes he looked like he was on his way to a Big Important Business Meeting, and sometimes he looked like he’d thrown on the closest clothes and gone to work. He didn’t hide his tattoos, but he didn’t showcase them either. He seemed to work the parlor alone. Why? What sort of style did he prefer? Why suits? How did he come to Storybrooke?

With so many questions running through her mind, Belle summoned all her courage and hurried over to Gold’s tattoo parlor.

No one responded when she knocked, so she pushed the door open and stepped inside. Belle could hear the buzz of what she assumed was the needle - a customer, then. She could wait. Belle glanced at the wall art, mostly showpieces of some of the designs he’d done. Over by the counter, a small sign signified a stack of leather books as ‘art collections’ - now that she wanted to see. Smiling, Belle leaned against the counter and flipped through them each in turn. Discovering they were cleverly disguised binders filled with what had to be a lifetime of art, Belle flipped through each one in turn.

“Be with you in a minute, dearie.”

Oh! He had heard her come in, then!

The last one was.. different. Instead of plain leather covering the binder it was dyed red, the only one with any sort of unnatural color to it. Belle risked a glance up at the curtain before opening its cover.

“O-oh!”

The very first page was a nude drawing of a woman with pouty lips and a dangerous gaze. Even from the paper she seemed to fix Belle with a dagger-filled glare. Laying draped over a golden throne, she twirled a piece of straw between her fingers.

Turning quickly, Belle found herself staring at a naked young man with a strange hat sitting beside him. He had no prop, nothing to lay across, but she found it more intriguing than the woman - for one, the man had a coy, inviting smirk on his lips. His hair was curled, lightly resting upon his forehead. One arm was cocked behind his head, as if he were propping himself up. The other reached toward her, a clear orb nestled in his palm.

The third page featured a topless woman with a hole where her heart should be, hands gripping a white flag that read ‘ C O W A R D ‘ in dark red ink. Soft black tresses cascaded over her shoulders, and her lips were sewn shut. Though drawn with the same hand and care as the others, when she leaned in she could see the original pencil marks upon the page. This drawing was edited after it was created.

Before she could register what she was seeing, Robert pulled the book away and snapped it closed.

“My apologies for keep you waiting, Belle. What can I help you with?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean - I just wanted to look at your art, I didn’t mean to - “

Robert held up a hand, stopping her mid-sentence. He wasn't mad, not in the slightest. 

“It’s fine, Ms. French. This one’s just a little bit… much. Perhaps you shouldn’t look too long at its pages. You, uh, you didn’t answer my question.”

“Right! Right. I, um, I really wanted to see if you’d… Come have lunch with me?”

Belle smiled at him as she stood up, brushing off her skirt to try and hide her nerves. What if he said no? Oh, what if she’d made a complete fool of herself?

“... You want to have lunch with me?”

“Yes.”

“Alright. Let me finish Mayor Mill’s tattoo, and then I’m free. Have you been to Granny’s yet?”

Belle bit her lip to hide her grin, giving her head a short shake.

“Can’t say that I have.”

Robert regarded her a moment, so out of place in his parlor and yet so eager to talk to him. He didn't mind, of course, it just... Surprised him. He had few friends in Storybrooke, and in a matter of days Belle seemed determined to remedy that.

“Take a seat by the window. Give me fifteen minutes. I think you’re going to love it.”

* * *

“You’ll have to come back in a few days so I can do the colors,” Robert said, taking his seat beside Regina once more. Gloves on, needle in hand, he returned to inking the fluttering pages of her tattoo. “Something’s come up. Not that I usually color before the ink heals, but I know you want to surprise Henry.”

And Emma, he thought, but he kept that to himself.

“What did your little friend want?”

“None of your business.”

Regina grinned to herself. She’d heard everything, of course - the parlor was much quieter without the buzz of the needle. Robert may not want to volunteer the information, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t get him to talk.

“Sounded to me like she asked you on a date. How old do you think she is? Eighteen?”

“It’s lunch, Regina. Not a date.” Robert clicked off the needle and bandaged her skin, offering her a small bottle of lotion to keep the ink from drying out. “Get out. You can pay me when it’s finished.”

Smirking, Regina pulled her shirt down and grabbed her purse.

“Enjoy your lunch, Mr. Gold!” she called as she exited the shop.

Robert took the keys from the back and met Belle by the door, offering her an apologetic smile.

“Sorry for the wait. Shall we?”

Belle rose and pushed the door open, waving him through.

“After you, Mr. Gold.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Granny's is a little more revealing than either Belle or Robert expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one is so short! I had plans that included a bit of uncomfortable flirting from other patrons but Belle and Gold had a mind of their own. I do love it when muses flow so freely!
> 
> The updates are slow because I've got a summer job, but I promise I haven't forgotten this story!

Every table seemed full as Belle and Robert entered the diner; the lunch crowd chattered and buzzed and paid them no mind as she led him to a booth near the back. Belle hadn’t had the chance to eat at Granny’s yet, but she’d heard Smee praise the burgers as he helped her father carry shelves into the store.

“Afternoon, Mr. Gold. Who’s your friend?”

A tall, slender woman with vibrant red streaks in her hair stood beside their table, her short shorts and tied top bearing the emblem of the restaurant. Her name tag, to Belle’s amusement, read ‘Ruby’. She smiled down at Belle, the expression inviting - if a little hungy, a little too wolfish for her taste.

“This, Ruby, is Belle French. She’s new in town.”

“Um, pleasure to meet you,” Belle offered, giving Ruby a smile of her own.

“Oh, I love your accent! You’re from another country, right? Like Mr. Gold? Must have traveled a long way to be here… I’ve always wanted to travel, but, Granny doesn’t really pay me enough to - “

“I certainly don’t pay you to stand around yammering!”

From behind the counter, Belle caught a glance of a stern woman with grey hair glowering at Ruby. Granny, perhaps? The owner of the diner?

Ruby heaved a sigh and lifted her notepad, ready to take their order.

“A cheeseburger for me, please. Um, no onions, if they come with them. And a… a lemonade to drink.”

Robert smiled and closed his menu.

“I’ll have the same, with water. No lemon. Thank you, Ruby.”

She gave Belle a little wave and disappeared, thought Belle spotted her a few tables away flirting with a man she didn’t recognize.

“She’s a nice girl,” Robert said softly. “Bit of wanderlust, loves new experiences… She certainly seems to like you. I doubt there’s anyone in this town who won’t. Maybe Regina.”

Belle chuckled and turned her eyes back to him.

“Really? Regina, who’s that?”

“The woman in my shop when you arrived today.”

Oh. Right, the shop. Belle pinked and closed her eyes, remembering the nude portraits in the red book on Robert’s counter. Maybe he’d draw her like that, if she asked nicely… Belle could be persuasive, she was sure…

“Ah, she seemed… sarcastic.”

“That’s certainly one of her traits, yes. She can be very abrasive, and I’m not sure she’s the right woman to run this town, but she has her merits. Regina’s very strong and stubborn, and she never backs down.”

“So you could tell me about everyone in Storybrooke, couldn’t you? Like… her, what’s her story?”

Belle pointed to a nun clad in blue who sat at the bar, sipping a cream soda and shuffling through a stack of papers.

“The Mother Superior, more commonly known as ‘Blue’. She’s been here longer than I have, if you can believe it. Her convent isn’t a Christian convent - no one knows exactly what they worship, but the town treats her like an authority on all spiritual matters.”

“Hm… And what do you think she worships?”

Grinning, Robert leaned a little closer.

“Herself.”

Belle fought to keep a straight face, but her giggles won out. She covered her face, laughing quietly at the thought of the Mother Superior with a shrine to herself.

“What do you make of that man? The one with the, um, the beard?”

“Ah, that’s Leeroy. Miner, drinker, level-headed if a bit of a curmudgeon. He has a very soft heart, though, for all his bluster. I’ve done all of his tattoos.”

Belle glanced around again, drumming her hands on the table as she glanced over the crowded diner. So many people to choose from…

“Her! The blonde, in the fancy suit!”

Turning, Robert caught sight of the woman Belle seemed so excited about.

“Mal. She runs a bar, but there are whispers of an organized crime ring that answers to her. I’m fairly certain it’s just because of her fedora, mind you, and her rather lovely fashion sense, but in small towns there’s little else to do if you have no one to gossip about. She’s a wonderful businesswoman, very strong and very sure. I’ve always admired her.”

“Hm… What about the guy with the buzzed hair? The young one.”

“That, my dear, is Will Scarlet. He gets into a fair amount of trouble. Expert at slight of hand, petty thief, scrappy in a fight… Sheriff Swan has to lock him up nearly every week, along with Leeroy. Those two cause entirely too much trouble together. He picks up coffee every morning, always spiked with bourbon when he reaches the sidewalk. He’s brave, though, I’ll give him that… though he has terrible taste in crimes.”

Belle laughed, trying to imagine what _good taste_ in crime might look like to Robert. He ran a tattoo parlor; surely he saw his fair share. What could Will do that coaxed such a smug little smile from him?

“What’s the most foolish crime he’s ever committed?”

“Oh, that’s tough… I’d have to say locking himself up in the cells at the Sheriff's station. Swore he could get himself out, claimed to be the next David Blaine, but he fell asleep on the cot and woke up so hungover he could barely open his eyes.”

“A-alright, alright, just one more… What about him?”

She pointed again, singling out a man clad in dark leather who had his feet propped up on the table he occupied. Dark makeup lined his eyes, and he sat nursing a scotch.

“Killian Jones,” Robert said with a soft sigh. “He’s certainly pretty, but he’s very mean. A womanizer, a drunkard, he likes to fight and he likes to f-” He seemed to catch himself, clearing his throat before continuing. “To bed women. He’s ex-military, a Navy officer. We don’t exactly get along.”

“Oh, a history? Do tell,” Belle coaxed, shifting in her seat.

“No. This isn’t the time or the place for that story.”

The shift in Robert’s demeanor happened suddenly. His shoulders squared, his jaw clenched, and the joy of learning about the other denizens seemed to vanish. What happened with Hook? Why did the mere mention of the story shut Robert down so thoroughly?

“Oh, I- I’m sorry I asked. I didn’t know it was a sore subject.”

Robert waved his hand dismissively. “It’s fine, dearie, you didn’t know. It’s not something I’m overly fond of sharing, especially with strangers. If we - if you’d like to continue this friendship, Belle, I promise I won’t keep you in the dark. But right now it’s not something I’m comfortable with. I’d… In truth, I’d rather learn more about you.”

Smiling a little shyly, Belle took her drink when Ruby brought them to the table. Drinking gave her time to gather her thoughts; Robert wanted to know more about her, but where should she begin?

“Well… There’s not much to know, I think. I enjoy reading, as I’m sure you know. You did catch me shirking my duties at the shop. I don’t - I don’t get to do things like this very much. Go out, socialize… Sometimes I think my father doesn’t know I exist. He never listens, not since my mother, um - “

The gentle smile slipped from Belle’s lips as she glanced down at the table. Apparently they both had stories they weren’t ready to share.

“Don’t let him silence you,” Robert said quietly. “Don’t live to please him. Some people, Belle… Some people can’t be pleased. My own father had a similar disposition. Don’t be afraid to stand up for yourself, and if you ever feel like you need to get away, my doors are open to you.”

Her vision blurred as she reached across the table, taking Robert’s larger hand in her own. Belle never had an offer like that; no shelter, no one in her corner, not since her mother’s passing. Robert, practically still a stranger to her, seemed to ready and willing to aid her, and Belle could scarcely believe it.

“You have no idea how much that means to me, Robert, really. I can’t - I don’t have the words, I…”

“Order up!”

Ruby’s bright voice cut through their shared moment. She set their plates down and did a quick check of their condiments, lingering just long enough to glance at their clasped hands. Robert pulled away, turning his eyes to his plate as Belle let out a melodious giggle.

She couldn’t wait to eat.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle and Robert part ways after their lunch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a short chapter! I got hung up on Belle, and the beautiful, skilled, brilliant [ChloeWinchester](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ChloeWinchester) helped me out by writing Belle's insecurities. I have trouble getting into her headspace, but she's a professional :)
> 
> Thank you, baby <3
> 
> After this, there will be some more dates and more characters introduced! I'm trying to update regularly, but this semester is really rough on me and I need to focus on my college work :c

All in all, it was probably the best first date Robert ever had - not that he had an extensive history to go off of. Throughout their lunch Belle seemed bright, engaged, and downright giddy - until Killian’s past history found its way dredged to the surface. That wasn’t Belle’s fault, however; she didn’t know. How could she know? Part of him loathed the jealousy that still lurked beneath his skin. At least twenty years passed since Killian entered his life, and still he choked back bile every time he saw him. Petty. Childish. Though he’d long moved on from his ex-wife, Killian instilled a sense of self-doubt and deep-rooted loathing within him.

Perhaps some day he’d speak to Belle of the incident on Killian’s boat, of the day Milah drowned, but not until he felt more comfortable opening up to her. So many times he’d tried to bare his very soul, only to have his interest thrown back in his face. Jefferson seemed the only one to truly care, but where did he go? Jefferson came in and out of his life like an aurora, bright and beautiful and leaving only darkness in his wake. They hadn’t been involved in years, but Robert missed their closeness. Their trust.

Building such a system with someone new terrified him.

After their impromptu date, he walked Belle back to her shop. Though they didn’t touch, Belle stayed close to him and leaned far within his personal space. Deliberate, or entirely accidental? Robert couldn’t say for sure, but he enjoyed the closeness regardless. She squeezed his hand before disappearing inside, and he limped back to the tattoo parlor a little less self conscious.

He needed to call Regina back; Robert wasn’t looking forward to the endless teasing he knew he’d be subjected to, but he never went back on his word. In a few days he’d finish inking her art, regardless of how she needled him about his little lunch date. However, they needed an appointment first.

* * *

She couldn’t get over the way he smiled. The way his cheeks dimpled, the crinkle beneath his eyes, that little huffed laugh of his… Whatever Gold’s sore spot with the leather-clad man in Granny’s may be, the awkwardness didn’t deter her in her pleasure. He had a way with words, weaving interesting stories with little to go on but the other patron’s histories. Belle valued a good story above anything else, and Robert delivered. The entire walk back she stayed close to him, idly asking him about the town just to keep listening to his voice.

Somehow, he seemed almost hesitant to talk about himself when the questions rose. In her admittedly limited experience, men loved to go on about their accomplishments at length - but not Robert.

Before they parted, she gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. Some day, she hoped they could trust each other. Not necessarily with the dark parts of their pasts, but at least enough to open up. She, too, held herself back. Moe taught her well, after all.

Once inside she set to work. Pausing with a daisy clasped lightly in her fingers, she watched him return to his own shop across the street. Lovely, in the warm sunlight, the slight streak of silver glimmering from the confines of his bun... Robert was gorgeous, and the way he - oh, but she was staring! She shook her head and hurried back to work, a small frown touching her pink lips. The last thing she needed was her father scolding her for slacking off.

What on earth was she doing, thinking such things after a single lunch? Her father told her over and over that no good could come from reading so much and speaking to others so little, and perhaps he was right. She got so carried away sometimes, so lost in musings of love -

Love. There she went again. Just a lunch and she was already throwing that word around. Her cheeks colored in embarrassment, hoping her sentiments hadn’t spilled over into her lunch with him. What he must think of her then; a silly little girl with silly notions who can’t even handle an outing with a handsome man without jumping to outrageous conclusions. This wasn’t one of her novels, one of her fairy tales... This was real.

Her ideas about Robert were not. Simple as that.

She needed to grow up and pull her head out of her stories. Her father was right. Just like always.


	6. Flashback: Robert's First Tattoo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look into Robert's Past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by the love of my life :) I couldn't resist!
> 
> And yes, I take prompts for this verse!

Eighteen was the age of adulthood, people said. At eighteen, he was a man. Robert clutched a photograph in his hand - the cloudy sky cast the tattoo parlor in a dreary light. He took a steadying breath and pushed the door open. Bells jangled above him as he stepped into the warm store, lit with welcoming bright bulbs along the walls. The floor was carpeted, a deep navy shag that he hadn’t expected to find in such a place. A woman behind the counter smiled at him and stood up from her stool.

“Welcome to Zoso’s Tattoo and Piercings, my name is Milah. Can I help you?”  


“Ah, yes,” Robert replied shyly. “I’d… I’d like to get a piece done, please.”   


He offered her the photo. It showed a wooden spinning wheel in saturated color, sitting on the peach carpet of his mothers’ home. Old, heavy, and made of sturdy wood, he wanted it to commemorate them and their favorite hobby. Even with the introduction of synthetic yarn into their house, they loved to spin wool from the sheep they kept.

“This? Really?”  


“It’s… It’s to remember someone very dear to me. My mother.”  


The stranger didn’t really need more explanation then that.

“Oh, alright. I suppose that’s a good reason to have this old thing inked… Do you have a design, or do you need me to draw you one?”  


“No! No, I have a design too…” Robert reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded-up piece of sketch paper. Drawn in coloured pencils was the tattoo he wanted - The wheel, with gold threads traveling down his arms and legs. Starting thick, the strands grew thinner near his wrists and ankles.   


Milah stared at it a moment, nodding.

“You’ve got some skill. Yeah, I can get you a slot today if you want. I’ve got a client in ten minutes, but Zoso should be free soon. Do you want to wait here?”  


Robert smiled. “Yes, please. Thank you, Milah.”

* * *

Half an hour later a short, sort-of squat man in a grey shirt and jeans walked out from one of the curtained rooms. He took a look at the list on the counter and peeked up at Robert.

“Robert Gold?”  


“Yes, sir.”  


“Name’s Zoso, I’ll be doing your ink today. Milah said you had a design already?”  


Robert showed him the paper, and Zoso cracked a friendly smile.

“I like this. It’s unique. You’ve got an eye for design, kid. Come on back with me.”  


Zoso led Robert behind a curtain and motioned for him to remove his shirt. He didn’t really like undressing in front of someone he didn’t know, but given the circumstances he had no choice. Robert made up his mind years before he turned eighteen, and nothing would deter him now.

He lay down on his stomach. The cushions beneath him were plastic-covered and colder than he expected. Zoso chuckled and opened a fresh needle, making a point to sterilize it before sinking down on the stool beside him. 

“Um… Will this hurt?”  


“Over your spine? Likely. There’s not a lot of meat on your bones to protect you, Mr. Gold, and it’s a very sensitive area. And with this being your first tattoo, you’re not used to the way the needle feels. It’ll be alright though - you look like you can take it. Everyone starts somewhere.”  


Though he didn’t feel particularly confident, Zoso’s words filled Robert with determination. He wouldn’t scream. He wouldn’t cry. This was a pain he could endure.

Zoso turned on the machine and Robert gripped the cushions in anticipation. This was it; as soon as the needle touched his skin there was no going back.

* * *

He felt it. The moment Zoso began to trace the wheel on his back, Robert nearly screamed from the pain. It moved so fast, faster than the eye could see - he knew it, though his eyes were closed. Yet every single prick of the needle, every single injection of ink, Robert could feel. His knuckles turned white digging into the chair. There were other customers, he couldn’t let everyone know how weak he truly was.

Or at least how weak he felt.

After an hour, Robert stopped feeling the pain. His skin seemed to acclimate to the needle. Tears leaked from his clenched eyes, but the vibrations turned soothing. Even breathing grew easier. This was a pain he could handle, even though he stung like hell wherever the needle passed.

A man. He was a man.

* * *

Five hours passed before Zoso turned off the needle. Robert lay half-dozing, lulled to sleep by the repetitive pricks of the needle. A gentle shake was all it took to wake him; he blinked up at Zoso, smiling.

“Am I done?”  


“I’ll need to touch up the color once it heals but yes. For now, you’re done. I’ve bandaged your back and the muscle with the gold thread, but you’ll need to put lotion on it frequently. If you can get help, it’s a lot easier.”  


He helped Robert to his feet. Robert’s back absolutely ached, but he couldn’t wait to see how the tattoo looked.

“Any other tips for tattoo care?”  


“For the first few days, don’t lean or lay on your back. Avoid turning your back to the shower - maybe don’t wash your back at all, just for a few days. If it itches, if the swelling doesn’t go down, come in and see me.”  


Robert fished out his wallet, nodding along with Zoso’s advice. He counted out the payment and passed it to him, already eager to tell his mothers. The cemetery wasn’t too far out of his way after all.

“One other thing, Mr. Gold.”  


“Oh, um, yes?”  


“Milah left this for you.”  


Zoso passed him a business card for the shop with a telephone number scrawled on the back. Maybe he’d give her a call when he healed…


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle takes a few shots of Liquid Courage to help with her hangups over Robert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to build to this, but I'm so proud of it... and I finally know what direction I want to take this.

“Sorry, dearie, no new clients today,” Robert called, recording how much his little parlour made. Three piercings, two new tattoos, and a few commissioned pieces to be turned into body art later… Not bad for Storybrooke, he supposed, but he didn’t move here for the clientele. 

The jingling of the chimes stopped; alone, then, as he preferred. Whoever had attempted to enter must have changed their mind.

“Mr. Gold?” A soft voice called. Robert tucked his books away and zipped up the deposit for the bank - if Belle was here, he didn’t want her to see him playing accountant in the back room. He tucked it into his pocket and limped into the main room, giving Belle a small smile. Dressed in a short leather skirt, high heels, and a cute red cardigan, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of her.

“Ah, good evening, Belle. Day off, I take it?”

“I - I want a tattoo,” she blurted, standing a little taller before him. “And I want you to do it, and I’m not going to take no for an answer.”

Precocious little thing, wasn’t she? Leaning against the counter, Robert pushed one of his art books forward. “If you need time to browse, go ahead. I’ve already cashed out the register for the night, but you can swing by and pay me tomorrow.”

“No, I won’t be needing that,” Belle replied, ignoring the portfolio. “I want a rose. Right here, right…” One carefully manicured nail pointed to a bit of bared breast, barely visible beneath her button-down top. She giggled, undoing several of the buttons.

“Belle?” Robert asked, standing up and crossing over to her. “Ms. French, have you been drinking this evening?”

“Mhm! Mayor Mills bought everyone a few rounds at the Rabbit Hole and, and I was there with my father. I thought, ‘Gold, I’ll go talk to him,’ and here I am! Will it hurt, do you think? I’ve always wanted a tattoo, and pain doesn’t bother me, but  _ needles?  _ No, I’m a bit afraid of them, I think. Maybe. It’s been a long time since I’ve been to the doctor, I may not even be -”

“Hush, dearie. I’m not going to give you a tattoo unless you’re sober. Do you understand?” Inebriation meant a lack of consent in all things - especially when deciding on permanent markings for your body. That could come back to haunt him, especially with the way Moe seemed to loathe his presence.

Someone needed to make sure Belle got back to her shop safe, sound, and uninked. 

“Your apartment’s attached to your shop, correct?”

“Why, do you want to come up for a drink, Mr. Gold?” Grinning coyly, Belle took a step closer. “I wouldn’t mind the company…”

“Belle,” Robert sighed, reaching out to take her arm, “you don’t know what you’re saying. I enjoy your company, I do, and if you were to approach me in your right mind I might be inclined to take you up on your offer. Right now, though, you -”

Before he could finish Belle cupped the sides of his face and pulled Robert into a slow, deep kiss. He could taste the white wine on her lips, coupled with the faintest hint of her rather incredible non-smearing crimson lipstick. Warm, soft, and unable to stop touching his skin, Belle smiled and slid her tongue clumsily against his. Despite every warning in his mind Robert wrapped one arm around her waist, steadying her as she pulled his bun loose. 

Belle was clearly pleased with herself. She stroked Robert’s soft hair, chasing his lips with more desperation than either of them expected. It felt good to be held; it felt even better to drag her teeth over his lip.

“That… That was an excellent first kiss,” she giggled when Robert pulled back. “Ever, actually. I’ve never, um… I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

Belle’s first kiss, and she wasn’t even sober for it? Robert’s amber eyes widened at the revelation. “… Belle, how well  can you walk in those heels right now?”

“Pretty well, but they’re starting to hurt. Why?”

Robert draped his leather jacket over her shoulders and lifted Belle in his arms. He could always lock up later, he supposed. All that mattered right now was getting Belle to her apartment across the street.

“Oh, you’re strong,” she breathed, holding onto his neck. “I could get used to this.”

“I wouldn’t bother, dearie, you’re only interested because you’re drunk.” Never before had Robert felt so grateful for the lack of an evening scene in Storybrooke. The street was empty as he limped toward the flower shop, cradling Belle safely in his arms.

Around back, a set of stairs led to the apartment Belle and her father shared. With each stair Belle seemed to grow heavier, his leg straining to support both of their weights.

“Keys?”

“Unlocked! At least, it should be,” Belle mumbled, secretly hoping for a few more minutes pressed against Robert’s racing heart. 

He set her down on the stoop and nodded to the door. “Go on in and get some rest, dearie. Have something to eat, drink some water, maybe lie down. About… About what happened, in the shop - “

“I’ve been wanting to do that since I met you,” Belle said, waving her hand dismissively. “You are a  _ very  _ good kisser, Mr. Gold. I’d like to do it again sometime.”

“If you’re sober,” Robert said. He kept his voice gentle, but firm. Saying he wasn’t attracted to Belle would be lying; some nights he dreamed of her, soft hands tracing his tattoos as they lay together in the dark…

But he would not take advantage of her. If she genuinely carried a flame for him, they could discuss it when she was sober and coherent. 

“Promise?” Belle asked, accent thicker as her letters slurred.

“I promise.”

She leaned in and kissed his cheek, smiling brightly. “Such a gentleman. Goodnight, Robert.”

“Goodnight, Belle.”

* * *

Once she locked the door behind her, Belle fell against the wall and laughed until her stomach ached. She’d done it, she’d finally done it, kissed him - with the added bonus of stopping him mid-word. It happened in the movies, but in real life? To her?

Moe wanted her to tag along to the bar to meet with Gaston, who never showed. Regina recognized a woman in need of a stiff drink; she joined them, and under the pretense of buying rounds for everyone filled Belle with enough wine to get her to talk. When her father wandered off Belle spilled - her fears, her thoughts, her attraction to Robert and her appreciation of his art... Regina knew Robert well enough to know he was quite taken with Belle as well. As quietly as she could manage in the loud bar, she leaned in and whispered encouragement in Belle's ear.

“Thank you, Regina, for the wine. Thank you, wine, for the courage to get over my insecurity.” Belle kicked off her heels and practically danced to bed, swaying ever so slightly with every step.

“He kissed me back… I can’t believe he kissed me back…”

* * *

Laying spread over his sofa, Robert stared into the fireplace with a sigh. Belle’s first kiss, and he’d been so overwhelmed he’d kissed her right back. She deserved better; he should have pulled away. He should have told her no. Belle’s lips were so soft, though, and she seemed so happy…

If she really wanted a tattoo, he’d be happy to draw it. It wouldn’t be strange, not in the slightest. He’d done chest work before, of course, but never on someone he desired. Not on someone he wanted to court.

Court. It sounded so old-fashioned, but he assumed in some ways he was. 

A rose… Belle wanted a rose. Robert pushed himself up and grabbed his sketchpad from the end table. Even if she hated him for the kiss in the morning, he could do this much for her. He could draft a few possible designs for pretty little florist who liked to dance so close to the devil. 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle's mind is made up. She wants a tattoo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It BEGINS. 
> 
> This is my quiet 'fuck you' to canon. I needed something smutty and fluffy but I didn't want to jump right in when they're still getting to know one another.
> 
> I hope this suffices :)

Someone was pounding on the door. Belle groaned and covered her eyes - she felt like she’d fallen down several sets of stairs. Nauseous, head aching, she pushed herself to a sitting position. 

“I’m coming!” she called. “Hang on, please.”

Her feet touched the carpet. Belle stood, swaying a little. The knocking changed tone.

Dammit. It was her blood in her ears. A symptom of the hangover, and she was fairly relieved to realize it.

“Oh, God… Why did I drink so much?” she groaned. She could remember drinking with Regina, walking with her shoes in her hand… Gold’s. She visited Robert, didn’t she? He carried her when her legs were too weak, and at her door - 

“Shit! Shit, shit… I shouldn’t have done that!”

Belle squeezed her eyes shut and covered her face with her hands. What would he think of her now? She wasn’t sure she could face him, but she needed to apologize to him at the very least. A shower… A shower seemed like a good start. Belle could work up the courage as she got ready for the day.

Right after she found some painkillers.

* * *

Robert kept his sketchbook close in case Belle had any interest in his design. Customers were scarce; Regina couldn’t get the colors done for a few more days, Leeroy was content with his newest work, and he hadn’t seen Mal nor Ruby in the shop in months. Slow days were the worst. Though he got sketches done, he had far too much time to think.

Thinking didn’t help.

The kiss haunted him. Belle’s lips were so soft… He could taste the wine on her skin. It had been years since he’d been kissed like that. How could he face her after that? She wasn’t in her right mind at the time and the consent issues haunted him. 

He should have pulled away, he thought.

He shouldn’t have let it go that far.

Jingling pulled him out of his thoughts. A customer was exactly what he needed to distract him. Robert looked up, forcing a smile, but he froze halfway off his stool. Belle stood just inside the door, dressed in a long blue coat and smiling nervously.

“Ah, good morning Belle. How do you feel? Head alright?”

“No,” Belle laughed, “but soon my aspirin will kick in. I feel like I drank way too much last night, and I’m paying for it today. That’s - that’s actually why I’m here.” 

She bit her lip and summoned up all the bravery she could muster. The kiss, the tattoo… She needed to discuss this for her own sake  _ and  _ for Robert’s. Belle didn’t want to ruin their relationship over one drunken night.

“Last night, I - I came up to you and said I wanted a tattoo.”

“I remember,” Robert said quietly.

“... I meant it. I still mean it. I want this, and I want you to do it.”

His brows rose a little in surprise. She - Belle wanted him to ink her in such a private place? True, it would be easier to hide, but it’d been a long time since he’d given such intimate attention to a client. Robert turned his eyes to the door for a moment, considering her offer for work.

“... I already drew the design,” he admitted. “Would you like to look over it?”

“Yes!” Belle’s eye lit up. “So you’ll do it? You’ll give me my first tattoo?”

“I will.” Robert handed her the notebook - Belle noticed it was the red one, the one with his risqué drawings inside. The page was open to a drawing of a female torso. Over the heart, half on the breast, was a dark red rose. Its petals were open in bloom. The stem ran down, down along her chest, stopping evenly with her breast. Every inch of the stem was draped in fine blue silk, covering the thorns. 

“Robert… Robert, this is beautiful,” she whispered, gently touching the page. 

“That’s the design you want?”

“Yes!” Belle exclaimed. “Yes, please. This is the tattoo I want.”

“Alright.” Smiling, Robert nodded to the back. “Have a seat; I’m going to lock the door. I don’t want to make a mistake, and someone coming in and distracting me wouldn’t be very helpful for my concentration.”

A thrill worked its way through Belle. She nodded and excused herself to one of the curtained chairs. Robert’s fingers slid along the lock a moment before he turned it. 

The sound was deafening in the quiet parlor.

* * *

Belle sat back in the chair with her ankles crossed. When Robert entered she smiled at him, her dimples deep and her eyes warm. 

“Is there anything I need to do?”

“Yes,” Robert answered. “Strip. I - I can step out if you like.”

“No. No, I don’t mind if you say.”

Fully aware of the dark eyes watching her Belle unbuttoned her jacket and slid it down her shoulders. She was already topless. A soft gasp escaped Robert’s lips.

“I came prepared.”

“And if I’d said no?”

Belle laughed. “I’d go home and put a shirt on - it’s just across the street, after all.”

Cheeks red, Robert pulled a chair up beside her and motioned for her to lay back. Once she had he reclined the chair and prepared the needle. He reached for a pair of latex gloves, but Belle placed a hand on his arm.

“No gloves, please.”

He blinked in surprise. “No gloves? Are you allergic?”

“Well, no, it just feels… cold. Impersonal. I’m nervous, and it’s - it’s soothing.”

Robert smiled at her. It was sweet - unhygienic, but sweet. 

“Just this once, I’ll break the rules for you.”

Once the needle was disinfected and the ink was full, he ran a hand over her ribs to smooth Belle’s skin.

“Are you ready? This is going to hurt, I won’t lie.”

“I’m ready,” Belle replied. “Please start.”

Robert pressed the needle to her skin and activated the power. Belle yelped in surprise and pain as it pierced her flesh. Black ink outlined the stem as Robert worked, wiping the blood with his free hand now and again. It welled from the wounds as she watched. She uttered a curse as the sting grew worse, tears beading in her eyes. She could take it. She could handle the pain.

He moved her breast to the side as he worked the needle down, carefully drawing each thorn in the stem and the pattern of the silk drape. Now and again he looked up at Belle and whispered praises to calm her.

“You’re so strong, Belle. Hold on. It will get easier.”

“Beautiful… this is going to look so beautiful on you.”

“I’m here. It’s okay, you aren’t alone.”

She appreciated his soothing voice, even if it did nothing to alleviate the pain. A small smile spread across Belle’s lips and she spread her arms above her head. It was easier to focus on the way his hands felt on the curve of her breast, on the way his eyes kept sliding to her stiff nipple, on how she wanted to feel his mouth on the sensitive flesh. 

“Glad to have - the support.” 

Every so often Robert slid his thumb over her skin, just barely kneading her breast. Belle’s pained groans started to fade, slipping into needy gasps. She arched her back, pressing into his hand. Was he doing it on purpose? Did he want to touch her like that, or was it part of fixing the ink?

It didn’t matter. Belle wanted it to be intentional. 

“Robert…” she moaned, shifting in her chair.

“If you move too much I’ll mess up,” he scolded her lightly. “It will be over soon, I promise.”

“ _ Robert,  _ please…” 

Her tone wasn’t lost on him. He turned off the needle and looked up at her, pupils wide.

“Yes, Belle?”

Belle pulled him up into a kiss, growling as their lips met. She licked into his mouth, desperate to taste him again - last night hadn’t been enough. He was so careful with her, so gentle and so polite… and he was gorgeous. Belle couldn’t stop thinking about him on normal days, but now? Now he consumed her every thought. How could she go back to before when she’d felt his hands on her? How could she forget they way he melted when she nipped at his lip?

“Touch me.”

Robert ran one hand up her stomach, the other thumbing over her nipple. She wanted him. She wanted him to touch her, to kiss her, to run his tongue over every soft inch of her body. He was careful as he slid her forward, pulling her into a sitting position on the chair. Finally he broke their kiss, breathing hard.

“Use your mouth. Please,” Belle whispered.

He minded the outline of her tattoo as he nuzzled under her breast, kissing along the weighted curve. Kisses turned to shy bites and gentle suckling - Belle gripped his hair and tugged, moaning his name over and over. Cradling him close, she encouraged him to move higher.

“Don’t be afraid. Please, Robert - please…”

Robert’s warm lips sucked at her nipple, tongue lapping gently as she squeaked in delight. Belle felt light, like she was floating where she sat. She’d never been touched like this, never been worshipped like this, and she wanted more. She wanted to strip Robert and push him in the chair, grinding against him until he begged for her to sink down on his cock…

“Mmn! Robert, that’s - “

He pulled back with a coy wink, his lips red. 

“I got carried away,” Robert said. “Sorry, dearie - you’re absolutely delicious.”

Breathing hard, Belle gave his hair a playful tug before releasing her grip. 

“Normally I wait a few days to do the colors to prevent the ink from bleeding. Is that alright, Belle? Would you like to wait?”

“No,” she huffed, her voice shaking. “You’re such a tease. Is this your way of asking me for another date?”

“I was just following orders, Miss French,” Robert laughed. “You told me to use my mouth.”

Belle rolled her eyes and lay back on the chair.

“You don’t get to leave just yet - I need to put lotion on the ink and cover it with tape.”

“Can’t I do it? The last thing I need is a sensual massage after that.” Still, she was grinning - it’d be a good night tonight. She wouldn’t get a single thing done at the shop, but once she was alone…

“Then I’ll give you one after I color it in.” He handed her the lotion and watched as she applied the lotion to her breast. Robert assisted with the tape and handed her the blue coat.

“What do I owe you?”

“You pay when the piece is finished. Don’t worry about that now.”

Belle stopped on her way out and caught him by the shirt. She pulled him in and kissed him hard, her small frame pressed flush against his.  

“Dinner tomorrow?” she asked.

“Of course. Have a good day, Belle.”

Laughing, Belle shook out her hair from her collar. “Oh, I intend to, Mr. Gold.”

As she left Robert flipped the sign to closed and headed back to his house alone. Belle watched him limp down the street to his car, wondering if he had the same idea she did. 


End file.
